A Fool's Hope.

This Is Not A List.

I had a lot to get off my chest. Sorry. Read the rest of this entry »

My Soundcloud

My Soundcloud

What some of you may not realise is that I also write and record my own music, both as a solo acoustic performer and with my band, Eraserhead (you can find us on soundcloud here). Here is a song I wrote today, I hope you enjoy it.

Wives (Short Play)

A play I wrote for my ‘Writing For The Stage’ module. I’m immensely proud of this. The formatting may be off, due to the fact it’s a script, but I’d encourage you to read it aloud, with friends.

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The Feasting Cave.

A short piece I wrote for my short story module this year.

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Fine Dining.

Cradle me in your arms
and feed me your secrets
like every one is a little aeroplane.

I’ll take some bites with a pinch of salt
and others like a fine Chinese delicacy
(that will probably taste like feet).

Cut me a slice of silence:
frosted and gilded like a wedding cake
– but of course, I’ve never been much of a fan
of wedding cake.

What I’d really like, you see,
is the tenderloin,
the finest cut you have,
so I can palate
everything your lips have tasted
and every time your body’s wept
and every tinge of pink scar-tissue
that your carving-knife has left behind.

So cut me a steak, or two, or three:
expose your bones
so I can taste the secrets
you will take to your grave.

Adam (or the Modern Prometheus).

Hello. This is one of my main assignment pieces for this year, an adaption of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. I envisaged it as a whole novel (it will probably never be completed), but here’s the first couple of chapters. My aim was to write a Frankenstein that is a modern homage to the original text, much like what the BBC has done with Sherlock Holmes, rather than a sequel or straight adaption. Enjoy!

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Sorry for posting so many pieces at once, but I just finished a poetry assignment and thought people would like to read it. Enjoy. :)

The Night Upon Which Our Intrepid Hero Breaks Free of His Chains.

Inside, I’m in stitches

at the incompatibility of this silence,

and suddenly irritated

by the cackle that was once

so, so… beautiful?

Sadly, my dear,

innocence and immaturity are bastards

that go hand-in-hand,

and tonight I have decided,

that I have no time

for either of them.

Gypsy Kings

Ears to the ground, boys.

Can you feel that?

That diabolical thunder

is the greatest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon:

a heat ray to the gut,

a new Ben Hur, all for us –

The Kings of Rome!


Yet it is no fight to the death,

no kind of Martian ultimatum,

but a sensory spectacular!

We’re going to the fair, boys,

and we won’t be back for tea.


and I wake to the sound of

absolutely nothing.

Some would say that I’m a cell

and I have the key,

but they’re sadly misinformed:

the door’s wide open, if you wish to enter.

So don’t mind the silence –

enjoy it, for soon the room will fill

with Howler Monkeys

and Mockingbirds.


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